Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. Vorsack would just have to live with it. Were any thing to happen to him, Newgate wouldn't be what it is, nor Tyburn either. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed.
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